


Fish Tails

by Gedry



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Happy Ending, Impersonation, M/M, Merman Misha, Slow Burn, fear of water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 08:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12908184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gedry/pseuds/Gedry
Summary: Richard spent his summer with the boy that lives inside the lake at his Grandfather's cabin.  But after adulthood intrudes on their friendship he find himself adrift and lonely.  The new guy at work look so much like his old friend.  But mermen don't just grow legs and walk back into your life...Do they?





	Fish Tails

Fish Tails

They have been taking Richard out here his whole life, not that his life has been very long considering how old his grandfather must be by now. This cabin way out in the middle of nowhere his Grandfather moved to when he retired. His mother hates it. She prefers the city life away from the heat and the bugs that come from living isolated in the woods next to a medium sized lake. Richard’s Grandfather has no neighbors; the closest town is ten miles down the road. There’s an alieness to the countryside that Richard finds fascinating even at his young age of six. It what draws him to explore the surrounding woods against his mother’s better judgment. It’s what brings him the edge of his Grandfather’s dock that fateful early afternoon.

Richard’s always been afraid of water, still cries when it’s bath time at home and God help you if you try to turn on the shower head, it’s like the world is coming to an end. So nothing really explains why he spends hours that day sprawled on the dock trailing his hand in the dark waters below. It’s like something is calling him there, like it’s where he needs to be, and even repeated warnings from his mother and the incessant teasing of his older brother can’t draw him away from the waters edge. 

Until it’s time for dinner, and Richard finally feels the pull of hunger over the sirens call of the lake. He trails his hand through the murky water one final time before preparing to follow his grandfather off the dock. But this time, instead of water trailing along his palm, Richard feels something catch onto his hand, hold tightly like the grip of handshake, and tug. He slips off the side of the dock with a squeak and splash, falling into the cool waters below only to be pulled under before he can cry for help. 

He struggles, trying his hardest to jerk away from whatever is holding onto him under the water. He can’t breathe and he’s terrified. A face appears before him, a boy, maybe his age, grasping his shoulders and smiling at him through the blur of the water as Richard feels his limbs getting heavy and sees the world start to fall away. The boy is smiling, too blue eyes shining out in the dim light under the water. He looks so pleased with himself and Richard wishes he could make him understand. This is bad. He wants to go home now. Just as his eyes slip closed he sees the smile melt off the other boy’s face only to be replaced with narrowed eyes and deep frown. Then he’s being dragged forward, the boy’s mouth pressed hard against his as air is forced into his screaming lungs. Richard inhales, arms grabbing back at the other boy’s body, slipping and sliding along skin that doesn’t feel quite right until his palms slide down to where legs should be and he feels…scales instead. The boy keeps giving him air, never stops to take a breath of his own and Richard suddenly less afraid of drowning and more afraid of whoever this is that dragged him down here. 

But just as suddenly as it all started, the boy drags his face away, still frowning. He looks…sad. Then he shoves Richard hard away from him and it’s only when Richard slams into the flailing body of his Grandfather that he realizes the fish-boy must have dragged him back up from the depths to the surface. 

His Grandfather drags him to shore, his mother screaming in the background while Richard blinks and tries to figure out what just happened to him. 

“What’s happened, Son,” his Grandfather asks him after shaking him silly. 

“I fell,” Richard answers, his eyes fixated on a flash of fin in the water. “Slipped I guess.”

He knows better than to tell them the truth even at six. 

Richard sits through two hours of his mother’s yelling. He’s not sure why she’s so mad but in the end he and his brother are hauled the ten miles down the road with her still upset and his Grandfather just shaking his head. He sees a doctor who says he’s fine, no harm done. Not that Richard suspected anything different. The next morning, his mom makes them pack up the car a full three days early so they can head home. Richard hugs his Grandfather goodbye and promises to come back next summer even if his mom is already swearing at him that he will _not_. The road away from the house leads down by the lake and Richard swears he catches sight of a pale, blue eyed boy watching him from the water, tucked up under some of the grassy weeds that grow on the edge of the lake. 

He waves, before he can stop himself. His brother snorting, “What are you waving at, Stupid? There’s nothing out there. You waving at a tree?” 

Richard ignores him, his eyes trained on the figure in the water as the boy smiles, bright like the best thing ever just happened, and waves back fingers glinting water in the sunlight. 

It takes them seven hours in the car to get home, Richard sleeps through most of it. He dreams of flying, soaring through the night sky without need for an airplane only to fall out of the air and land with slash in the middle of the lake. He thrashes in his sleep, frightened, until he feels that tug on his hand and opens his eyes. In his dream blue eyes stare back at him with a smile and the boy drags him once again under the water. This time Richard can breathe, and he finds that swimming is a lot like flying. Only this time he has a partner to share it with. 

His mother doesn’t let him go back to the lake the next summer, or the one after that. But Richard keeps dreaming, keeps holding onto that hand. The older he gets the more he knows it has to mean _something_ , so starts to plan. 

He’s going back. He needs answers. 

*****

When Richard is nine he spends the first month of summer vacation from school trying to learn how to swim. Trying, because every single time he sticks his face under the water he’s overcome with panic related to when the blue eyed boy dragged him into the depths. He’s unable to force himself past it. Richard’s previous discomfort with water in general is now clearly focused on pools, lakes, rivers, or God forbid, the ocean. He simply can’t stand it. 

He spends the second month of his summer vacation copying his older sister’s summer school homework and sliding it to his swim instructor. It just so happens, said swim teacher is a teenager, the same age as Richard’s older sister. He’s struggling to pass the same summer school class too, and though Richard’s sister is putting forth some effort to actually learn algebra, he’s not. By the time summer school ends his swim teacher gets a passing grade in the class thanks to Richard, and Richard gets documentation that he can swim. It’s an even trade. 

Besides, Richard has no intention of ever getting back in the water, he just needs the proof he can swim so his mother will let him go. 

It’s a gamble, but they don’t have a backyard pool or anything so it’s not like she can force him to prove it. 

So with two weeks left in his summer vacation Richard is on a plane back to his grandfather’s place by the lake. His bags stocked with all the things a boy of nine thinks he will need to trap a sea monster…from the shoreline, of course. 

He spends his first day assessing the territory; he needs to be careful about it. If his grandfather finds out he’s sneaking around the lake like a nut he’s probably going to be sent back home before he even gets a chance to prove to himself he hasn’t been making this story up for the past two years of his life. This is a big deal, maybe his only chance to get it right. So he sets his nets and his lines up as carefully as he can in a secluded part of the lake area where he knows his grandfather won’t follow him to. Richard waits, the first day for hours, but nothing happens. The next morning, he finds a fish. 

The day after that he manages to catch a rock from the bottom of the lake. Richard’s not sure how it ended up in the net. 

On the third day all he finds is a shiny piece of metal. He’s getting frustrated now, this is serious. He’s running out of time. 

He waits until late afternoon on the fourth day of his plan. Richard’s getting fed up, thinking maybe this wasn’t the best idea he’s ever had, or maybe he really is just crazy and hallucinated the whole thing after all. When he reaches the water’s edge he finds his trap empty it sends him into a fit of anger and he yanks and rips at all of his carefully placed lines destroying what he had created in the hopes of finding that creature he still swears he couldn’t have imagined. Richard’s dragging up the last line from where it trails out in the water. He’s not crying, boys that are almost ten do _not_ cry. At least that’s what everyone keeps telling him. But the line won’t come free from whatever it’s stuck on so Richard finally just drops into a heap on the water’s edge and presses his face into his hands. 

Long moments later, when he swears the sun has shifted in the sky, there’s a tug on the rope he still holds in his hand. Richard blinks, readjusting his red-rimmed eyes to the light still golden and rippling across the water’s edge. There, just a foot off shore, is the boy, pale and otherworldly in the way his eyes blink so slowly. He’s holding the other end of Richard’s line, the part with the loop around it made to snag onto something. With a flourish the boy lifts it up and places it over his own head, looking back at Richard with his eyebrows drawn close together as if to question if this is what he’s been wanting. Richard gasps, a fish, a rock from the bottom, the shiny piece of metal…they were gifts, treasures maybe from the other boy to him. A way for him to make a connection, to try and communicate without coming to close to the shore and risking being seen. 

Richard howls with laughter. The boy in the water jerks in fright but he doesn’t swim away, instead as Richard continues laughing his face breaks into a wide smile and after another moment he tries to make the noise Richard is making, blinking in what has to be confusion when the tone comes out all wrong. He presses his hand to his throat and then points to Richard’s cocking his head in a question. 

“Laughing,” Richard announces. 

He gets some kind of gurgle as a reply. 

“You don’t talk?” Richard asks.

A low rumbling sound is all he gets in reaction, it reminds him a little bit of the whale calls he heard on Animal Planet one night when he was supposed to be sleeping. 

“Can you understand me?” Richard asks, his whole plan for the next week fractures around him when the boy cocks his head again and makes a higher pitched almost questioning sound. 

He flounders, uncertain. How are they going to make this work?

The boy from the water throws his head back then, another noise produced from his throat that sounds much more like a chuckle than Richard thinks it really should. Then he smiles again, hugely and announces, “Laughing,” in a tone that’s clearly not right, his voice stilted and watery like it’s working in a way it never has before. But still…it shows he can learn even more so, wants to learn. 

Maybe he’s lonely. 

“Richard,” He says, pressing his hand to his t-shirt covered chest and just kind of hopes he’s doing this right. “I’m Richard.” 

There’s a series of clicks and clacks, long and spaced oddly apart from the boy. At the end of the strange noises he smiles triumphantly, like he won a trophy and slaps a wet, pale hand to his own chest. 

Good news, he has a name. Bad news, Richard doesn’t have a hope of pronouncing it. 

“Yeah,” he says with a shake of his head, fingers bumping his throat as he shakes his head. “I can’t do that. You need a better name. I can’t go around calling you man-fish.” 

“Mish?” The boy says, poking himself in the chest with one long webbed finger, eyes lifted in question. “Mish?”

“Seriously?” Richard asks. 

“Richard!” the boy barks out, stumbling over the last part of his name, mangling it really, but it’s the effort that counts. He waves a hand at Richard before slapping himself back in the chest and announcing, “Mish!” 

“Okay,” Richard sighs. “Mish it is, but don’t blame me when you hate it later. You picked it.” 

They only get a week and a half that summer, going over the basics as much as Richard knows how. In the end, the night before he leaves he stays up whispering into his tape deck while it’s set on record. Words, so many words he wants Mish to know and understand and so little time for them to learn them all. He packs his headset, tape deck, extra batteries and all, in a Ziploc bag and takes them to the waters edge before he leaves. 

Mish looks lost, utterly confused before Richard puts the earphones on and hits play. He shows him how to change the batteries, figures it might last him a month depending on how much he uses it. But it’s all he’s got to go with. 

“I’ll be back next summer,” he explains as he goes to leave. “I know you don’t understand everything, but I have to go now. Next time I’ll stay the whole three months, I promise.” 

Mish looks upset as Richard’s Grandfather drives him around the lake heading toward the airport. Richard waves, and he’s relieved when Mish waves his hand in return. 

From there on out, Richard spends every summer at his Grandfather’s cabin. He spends the year collecting information needed to teach Mish things about the world and new words. Every year it gets a little easier, with the invention of CD players, and laptops. With the booming success of the internet Richard finds lesson plans and a way to actually _show_ Mish the world outside of the lake. As the years pass Richard never misses a summer, even when it means giving up trips to Mexico with his frat brothers, or meeting Lisa’s parents. He cherishes his time with Mish, where for a few small weeks he’s with someone that wants nothing from him, never judges him, and doesn’t press for more than he has. 

*****

When Richard is twenty four and just out of business school, his Grandfather dies. The doctors tell Richard he had a heart attack out in a boat on the lake, that he was soaking wet when the rescue squad came, but there was no water in his lungs, that a man who would not identify himself had called 911. His whole family thought it was strange, but Richard knew the truth. Mish had tried to save him, maybe even given him CPR since Richard had taught him that a few summers ago. He had somehow gotten the boat back to shore. The only thing he couldn’t figure out is how Mish had gotten from the lake to the old fashioned corded phone his grandfather insisted on still using in the kitchen. 

Richard would have to ask his friend the next time he could. There ended up being papers upon papers for Richard to sign. He spends the next three months in utter terror that the cabin will be sold and he’ll never see his friend again. But it turns out his Grandfather left it only to him, a written letter in his will stating that because Richard loved it as much as he did he could keep it. His brother and sister are furious, preferring the money to the place they never really enjoyed going to. Richard refuses to sell; he packs his things that very night and drives down long, deserted highways to get to his friend. 

Mish has to be scared, maybe didn’t understand what was happening, now he’s been alone there for months. Thoughts race through his mind and maybe, just maybe, Richard is as in need of comfort as he thinks Mish might be. He’s hasn’t given into the urge to cry yet. 

The car skids to a halt, Richard barely taking the time to throw it into park before he’s out of it in the pale light of the dawning sky and racing down the dock. “Mish!” he shouts into the murky blackness of the water. “Mish, I’m here. Come here!” 

The water break with almost no sound, but Richard is prepared for that by now; he sees the ripples that signal his friend is answering his call. Mish appears at the end of the dock looking drawn tight and frightened. 

“What happened?” He asks breathlessly. “He fell. I tried to help him, like you taught me. But he was so still.” 

“He’s gone,” Richard answers, the cold ball of dread in his stomach expands outward, burning him and aching until he slumps to his knees on the dock and sobs out his grief into his hands. His Grandfather is gone, the only one in his life other than Mish who ever really understood him. It’s as painful as losing a parent to him, he hurts and he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Richard,” Mish whispers, he hears a splash as his friend lifts himself out of the water and onto the dock. Too cool to be human hands touch his shoulders as they shake for just a moment before letting go, a sliding noise before wetness presses up against him, cold arms slipping around him, a cool cheek pressed to the top of his bowed head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Richard cries until he’s got nothing left. He cries until the damp form pressed up against his body starts to shake and Mish starts to make a horrible choking, gasping sound. He lifts his head, turns toward his friend and gasps in something like horror. 

The whole left side of Mish’s finned lower half is scraped and scarred. He has scales missing from his tail and the once luminous surface is marred, blurred. It’s almost dirty looking. “What happened to you?” Richard asks as he reaches out to touch this part of Mish’s body that he’s seen before but never once been allowed to lay hands on. The tail is bumpy, rough is places and smooth in others. It slips and slides through his hands like there might be some kind of coating on it and Mish moans and twists next to him before shoving Richard away and throwing himself off the side of the dock and back into the water waiting below. He resurfaces, face tight like he’s in pain and biting at his lip while the pale color returns to his cheeks where moments ago he was pasty. 

“I can’t stay out of the water for very long,” Mish explains with a shrug of his shoulders, his webbed hands gripping the dock to hold him steady. “My gills dry out, my skin feels tight, things…happen to me. It hurts.” 

“I’m sorry,” Richard answers automatically. There’s something else there, something he doesn’t understand, but sometimes Mish is like a puzzle he can’t figure out. “What happened to your fin?” 

Mish looks away from him, focusing instead on the wooden planks of the dock. “He needed help. I couldn’t get him to wake up. I brought the boat to the dock and then screamed for help. But there’s no one here, Richard. You know that. Totally isolated. It’s what he loved about this place. I drug myself to the house. The rocks of the driveway…the distance from the water…it hurt me.” 

“Don’t you ever do that again.” Richard orders with his voice shaking. The idea of it, of Mish dragging his thin skinned body over sharp rocks, struggling to cover the distance to the house and then back again so he wasn’t discovered is frightening. The damage is permanent and Richard can tell, just from the way Mish is clinging to the side of the dock that his ability to swim in the water has been affected. 

“It didn’t matter,” Mish whispers sadly. His blue eyes welling up though Richard has never actually seen Mish cry. “I let you down.” 

“No you didn’t,” Richard assures him as he sticks out his hand to rub in the wet locks on his friend’s head. “People die, Mish. It’s part of life. You did more for him than some other people would have done. Thank you.” 

They stay together, Richard sitting on the dock and Mish holding onto the side of it for a very long time. 

*****

Richard works long hours, days spent doing assessments and adjustments to people’s business portfolios and investment profiles. There are long hours where he’s crouched in front of a computer or sits holding a phone listening to some irate person snarl at him because the stock market isn’t as good as it used to be. He tolerates all of it with two goals in mind. 

One day, Richard’s going to run this whole business, he’s going to control his own destiny and by the time he’s through with them all he’ll decide when his own lunch break is, Damn it. Secondly, and more importantly maybe, he knows if he can just stomach six straight weeks of uncontrolled bullshit and ass kissing he will have enough saved up vacation days to get on a plane and head home. Home being straight back to his cabin by the lake where Mish is waiting for him. Things have changed in the four years since Richard took over ownership of the cabin. 

For instance, there’s wifi now. Mish has a nearly waterproof net book that basically lives on the edge of the dock. He has uninterrupted access to email and the internet. Hell, half the time Richard’s at work Mish is chatting with him over AIM. They’ve gotten even closer even though now Richard only gets one week off for every six he works. There’s some kind of communication almost every day. Richard thinks maybe it’s a little weird to be so intimately attached to a creature that frankly isn’t human. But Mish is still the best friend Richard has ever had and doesn’t want to trade that in for anything. 

Which is why he’s nervous about his next trip home. 

He and Daria are getting serious. Sure, they’ve dated off and on for years now. Things have never really seemed to be right with them and Richard’s just not good at relationships when you get right down to it. He’s been called selfish, arrogant, untrustworthy. Honestly, he can be all those things. He has a way of always looking for the next best thing, even in the middle of sex he’ll sometimes find himself thinking about how it’s not going to last, how it doesn’t feel right, how he needs more even when the person underneath him has given their everything to him and he’s the one holding back. 

But Daria and he always seem to orbit back together; they slam into one another and break apart just as violently. And the sex has always been amazing, she’s one hell of a kinky lady and where his other lovers have always been uncomfortable with Richard’s urges to be dominated, to be penetrated even, Daria has never backed down from a challenge. He loves her for it. 

Or thinks he might. Richard and emotions aren’t really good friends, he tends to only really feel things when they’re being ripped from his grasp. 

He wants to bring Daria to the cabin. Richard’s planning on proposing to her and before he does it he needs to make sure that the two most important people in his life can get along. After all, his every seventh week trips to the cabin are going come to a screeching halt as soon as they get engaged, Daria has already made it clear that she doesn’t want any more of his time taken away from her and Richard understands. When you’re serious about someone then you need to be with them. 

So his plan is to introduce Mish to Daria and hope they get along. After all, she keeps all kinds of secrets about him even through nasty break ups, so he figures Mish will be safe. If not then Richard will sell the cabin and they’ll relocate him somewhere else. 

He just needs to make sure Mish is okay with it first. Richard’s never come home with company before. 

A few weeks later he’s lounging in the canoe he purchased with his last Christmas bonus, hand trailing into the water beside him while Mish slips back and forth beneath the boat slapping at it with his tail and generally causing a ruckus. Richard’s smiling, sunglasses keeping the glare of the afternoon sun out of his eyes while the droplets of water Mish’s tail flings up help to keep him cool. It’s perfect, just what he needed to rejuvenate himself. Daria’s going to love it. He hopes. 

“Next time I come,” Richard swallows before going on. He’s not sure mish even understands human sexuality. “How about I bring someone with me?”

Mish appears suddenly, hands gripping the side of the canoe enough to tip it slightly so he can meet Richard’s eyes. “You’ve never brought anyone here before,” Mish sounds guarded, protective. “Who?”

“Daria,” Richard explains, hesitating for just a second because he doesn’t like the dark look in Mish’s usually clear blue eyes. “We’re…together. I want you to meet her.” 

“Because she is your friend.” Mish says. It’s not a question. It’s more like I his mind there’s no other option possible. 

“Sort of,” Richard hedges, suddenly uncertain but it’s too late to take it back now so he forges ahead. “We’re involved. I think I love her. I’m going to ask her to marry me so I want to make sure you think that’s ok.”

Mish lets go of the canoe, the side tipping up an obstructing Richard’s view as his friend sinks into the water. Long moments pass before Mish reappears on the other side of the canoe, much closer to Richard’s head. “How could you ever think that would be acceptable to me?” 

The question slams home with so much unexpected force that Richard gasps on the feeling of wrongness swelling in his chest. It’s like he’s done something dirty. He feels like he violated something he didn’t even know existed. Mish is clearly angry, shaking so much small drops of water are flying off his skin. “I don’t understand,” Richard says instead of answering the loaded question. 

“You’re…mine.” It’s said with such finality, so much certainty behind it. Richard’s stunned. 

“I’m your friend,” he whispers. “That’s all.”

“No it’s _not!_ ” Mish shakes the boat and Richard grabs onto the sides terrified. He forgets how strong Mish is, how inhuman sometimes. The water below holding no fear to the merman, but Richard’s yet to learn how to swim. “I don’t even have a word for it,” Mish snarls. “You humans and your stupid words for everything. You belong with me. We’re together. I gave you my breath the day we met. I had been calling and calling to you and you finally answered me. You’ve always come back to me. I belong with you. It has to be you. There are no others. You shouldn’t want anyone but me.” 

He tips the boat then, Richard hitting the water with a slash flailing for purchase only to find Mish there, holding him so his head doesn’t go under. He’s pinned against his friend, Mish’s breath ghosting over his face before he presses their lips together, teeth slamming. Richard fights then, the hold impossible to break but he struggles. He can’t do this. This isn’t right, it’s not him, not who he is. It’s not happening. “ _NO!_ he shouts and Mish releases him just far enough to put distance between them but not enough to let Richard struggling against the water. 

“I’m not gay,” Richard gasps out. “And even if I was, I can’t do this with you. You’re not human; you can’t even leave this lake. This isn’t happening. I’m not yours.” 

He sees Mish’s face contort into something like agony before the force of Mish hurling him through the water is too great that he has to shut his eyes against the pressure. One moment he’s in the water, the next he’s slamming into the wooden planking of the dock choking and shaking. 

“Get away from here,” Mish says coldly. “Everything about you is a lie.” 

Richard runs back into the house, slamming and locking the door behind himself, though he’s not sure why. He’s afraid; something in his chest feels broken and disfigured. He watches through the window as Mish destroys his canoe with his hands and tail. The pieces of it washing up on the shore just like Richard did. 

Then as the sun sets Mish slips below the water and God help him, Richard knows it’s the last time he will ever see his friend. 

He packs his things, closes up the cabin, and drives away thinking he’ll never come back. 

*****

Richard’s not sure why he maintains the cabin, can’t seem to make himself turn off the electricity and internet connection just in case Mish still uses it. He hates the idea of his oldest friend out there totally isolated from the world. 

Isolated the way Richard finds himself now. 

He and Daria did get married, for exactly four years, three months, and two days. It’s something Richard really wishes he could erase from his life. The truth is, he’s gay, and nothing Daria or any woman did would change that. So to compound the fact that he hasn’t ever really had a health relationship in his life, he now has to admit to himself that when it comes to men his type leans toward dark haired, blue eyed, pale, thin men that remind him of a creature Richard is never going to see again. 

Mish was right; everything about him is a lie. Maybe everything about him always has been. Richard hates himself a little bit more everyday, and it’s been five years since that horrible day at the lake when he tore his own life and the life of the only person who never judged him to bits. 

He’s accomplished one of his goals at least, he’s senior partner in his agency now, working to develop a merger with a slightly smaller but equally wealthy other firm. If he pulls this off he’s going to be a shoe in for vice president. Hell, they might even put him in charge of the whole division. He just needs to get through the next three weeks of negotiations with the guy the other firm sends over to negotiate and from what Richard has heard, the negotiator is one tough cookie. 

“Mr. Speight?” his assistant says from the doorway. “Mr. Collins is here.” 

Mr. Collins, Richard doesn’t know much about the guy. In fact, all the information he’s been able to bring up basically points to the idea that up until three years ago he didn’t even exist. They just can’t find anything on the guy. That being said, he has a reputation for being fair and thorough. Richard finds that appealing, so he’s hoping they can make some headway, get a plan set up in both their interests, and maybe even get some dinner. 

It’s been a long time since he’s been on a date and even longer since he’s gotten laid. A little attention of the male persuasion wouldn’t be a problem. But knowing his luck, the guy is probably straight. 

“Send him in,” Richard answers, drilling his way through the pile of paperwork stacking up on his desk while he waits for Collins to come in. A few moments later, the door opens, Richard doesn’t look up as the other man approaches. He’s too focused on this invoice that clearly has something wrong with it. He’s just not sure what the problem exactly is.

“Whoever sent that in for approval needs to be educated in how to use a calculator,” a voice comments from where Richard is bent over. He looks up and feels his whole body go numb. 

This can’t be real. 

“Can I help you?” Richard chokes out through a throat that feels too tight. He can’t breathe. 

“I’m Mr. Collins,” the man answers, there’s no smile on his face, no recognition in his eyes. But that can’t be right because Richard would swear, from the hair on his head to the shape of his face, the color of his eyes, that this man is his Mish. “They said you were expecting me.” 

“I’m…sorry,” Richard stammers. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so,” Collins answers with a slow shake of his head. “Is that a problem?”

“No!” Richard barks, leaping to his feet and them diving for the floor to pick up the papers he’s just scattered everywhere. “Excuse me. I’m not myself today.” 

Collins doesn’t say anything. He just stands there as Richard struggles to compose himself. 

“I’m Richard,” he says for lack of anything else to say while he struggles to force his utterly confused brain back into functioning. He ends up sticking out his hand to shake and is relieved when Collins accepts the gesture. 

“Misha,” the other man says conversationally as Richard is cataloging the differences between his hand and the way Richard vividly remembers Mish’s hand feeling when they touched. Collins hand isn’t slick, cool, or smooth. He’s hot, almost too warm, and tanned, his hand is rough and callused. Richard’s just convinced himself that he’s not loosing his mind, this man just looks similar to his lost friend that he’s been missing so much recently. But then the word, it makes Richard’s head pound. 

“Pardon?” he asks. 

“My name,” Collins comments with an odd grin. “It’s Misha. Unusual, I’m aware but my mother was eccentric.”

Misha…Richard’s world continues to spin out of control. He’s overcome with one thought; God must clearly be punishing him for being a total abject asshole. There’s just no other explanation for how this is going. 

The rest of the day melts into Richard mumbling incoherently, looking like a complete jackass and a total idiot at the same time. He’s certain by the time he heads back to his condo very late in the evening that Misha Collins thinks he’s both spastic and psychotic. Half the time all Richard can do is stare at the side of Misha’s face while he catalogs the differences between him an Mish. 

How does one explain such an obsession? Richard’s not sure you can. “I’m sorry, you remind me of this merman I knew. He loved me but I rejected him because I’m an asshole,” is really not going to win Richard any brownie points. 

He’s going to get fired. He’s going to ruin this merger and burn his whole life down around his own shoulders if he can’t get himself together. He falls into bed, slipping into sleep only to dream about making out with Misha on a pile of papers across his desk. Only when he goes to take off Misha’s pants he has a fish tail instead of legs and all Richard can think of is how frustrated he is that he can’t figure out how to fuck him. He wakes up shouting into the darkness of his apartment covered in sweat. 

He’s going crazy. 

All and all, Richard’s fucked. 

*****

Two weeks later Richard finds himself enjoying his newly regular after work activity; running on the treadmill in the office gym beside Misha Collins. Though if pressed Richard would admit that his definition of running is really more like jogging, or walking quickly and Misha runs as though he is fleeing from a psycho killer. The man has stamina like nothing Richard has ever seen. He sometimes wonders on these odd after work dates they have if maybe Misha’s using some kind of steroid. It’s almost like if Richard wasn’t there to distract him with random off the wall questions he could run forever just staring at the blank wall in front of him. It’s almost inhuman. 

“So you’ve seriously got no idea who David Bowie is?” Richard asks as he stumbles to hold a pace even remotely decent in relationship to the flat out dash his co-worker is doing. 

“No,” Misha answers and seriously? He’s not even really breathing hard and they’ve been going at it for over ten minutes already. 

“How is that possible?” Richard questions. “The man is an icon of music. Were you born in a barn or something?” 

Misha’s face twists in this odd little smile he gets when Richard asks him questions about anything before the past six months. There’s a secret there, something deep and possibly dark that Richard wants to dip for. Misha is interesting, hell, Misha is the most interesting person Richard has met in a long time and unlike most people, Richard really enjoys his company. That’s pretty rare too. Most of the time being around people too much leaves Richard feeling raw and exposed, irritated. But there’s an easy companionship they’re developing as Richard has finally starting to get over the idea that Richard looks similar to his long lost Mish. There are significant differences in their personalities, Misha is wild and brash where his friend was more patient and focused. Misha is like lightening, striking when you least expect it full of information and taking out anyone and anything I his path so long as it suits his purposes. Richard tries not to think of the one time he ever saw Mish angry. 

It hurts too much. 

“I grew up pretty isolated,” Misha finally answers still pounding his feet against the treadmill at a steady pace. “So I guess there are some things I just missed.” 

“Like where?” Richard presses, hoping for an opening to really get some details. “On one of those insulated religious compounds? You were raised Amish!” 

“Yes, Richard,” Misha says blandly with a roll of his eyes. “I’m secretly Amish.” 

“Okay, so that is stupid,” Richard laughs at himself. “But give me something.”

He’s really _really_ hoping Misha does press him for why this matters. Honestly, Richard’s been seriously toying with the idea of asking Misha out to dinner, trying to start something more than friendship with him. He enjoys the other man’s company immensely, has random lusty thoughts about kissing Misha, Misha’s tanned skin spread over his sheets, Misha’s sometimes overly filthy mouth wrapped around his dick…Richard needs to stop thinking about this before he trips and kills himself. 

“I don’t know,” Misha huffs wiping some sweat off his forehead. “I don’t have siblings, my parents are dead. I grew up in an isolated place, was home schooled. I taught myself about the business and have a knack for it, I guess. I don’t like to be in one place too long, don’t have many people I’m close to. Never have, really. There’s not much to tell.” 

Richard’s honestly not sure what to say in response so he just keeps running, turning it over in his head. Misha’s given him the information he’s asked for, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Richard wants more. 

“What about you?” Misha says several minutes later as he and Richard are powering off the machines and getting ready to head to the bathroom and changing area to clean up. 

Richard’s honestly startled. Misha hasn’t really done too much but answer Richard’s questions and listen to him ramble. This is the first time Misha’s asked him anything in return. “Umm.” He struggles to think of what exactly to share. “I was raised by my mother, but we aren’t close. I have an older sister and brother but we haven’t spoken since my Grandfather died a long time ago. It’s a long, complicated story. I stay in town a lot. I like the cities. Wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I didn’t have something to work on. I’ve been married, divorced. No kids, thank God. That wouldn’t have been fair. I think I’m just now learning how to be an adult.” 

“So that’s it then?” Misha says vaguely as he swipes at his sweat dampened hair with a towel. “No significant people in your life?” 

“No,” Richard says softly as he throws his towel into his gym bag and gets ready to join Misha on the walk to the garage. “I had someone once, grew up with them. He was a good friend…I messed it all up one day. Didn’t mean to. He had one idea about our relationship and I had another. I was stupid, young. I didn’t even really know who I was or who I wanted to be. Anyway,” Richard sighs as he struggles to control his shaking hands. “we haven’t spoken in a really long time. I’m not sure there’s anything left to fix there.” 

They’ve gotten to their cars, parked neatly beside each other like perhaps they belong that way. Richard doesn’t remember the elevator ride, or the walk through the building. It’s weird, to be so distant from his body like he’s lost inside his own head. He blinks, turns toward Misha to find the man looking at him like he’s under a microscope, something to be examined closely. “What?” 

Then Misha’s leaning toward him, his hand coming up to slide along the side of Richard’s face, tangling in the messy curls on the back of Richard’s neck and urging him closer. Their noses bump, Richard feels a grin curling around his mouth before Misha’s lips descend against his, hot, wet, and perfect. He drops his gym bag so he can cling to Misha’s shirt; Richard knows he moans like an idiot virgin. Misha huffs an amused but shaky noise against his cheek after pulling back, just a bit to nuzzle the side of his face. 

“Invite me to dinner tomorrow night,” Misha orders before pressing a kiss to Richard’s ear. Just like him to tell Richard to invite him instead of just asking Richard himself. 

But still, “Come to dinner with me,” Richard breathes. 

“Yes,” Misha smiles all bright and content. Richard’s stomach flips over. 

They don’t work out the details then, leaving it for in the morning. Richard goes home that night and falls asleep dreaming of Misha farming in Amish country. He wakes up hours later gasping for breath as if he was struggling to stay afloat in the sea.

*****

Richard spends way more time obsessing about dinner the following evening than he would really care to admit. First it’s the food, trying to figure out chicken or beef, and then settling on fish because, _shit_ he’s totally lost here and in way over his head. Then, after he finally settles on the meal he spends the rest of the afternoon turning over place settings and lighting, music and after dinner wine. He’s like a fifteen year old girl with a crush, he knows just enough to be dangerous, but has no real clue as to what is actually going on. 

By the time Misha actually gets to his house for the evening Richard has been contemplating calling him to cancel for over an hour. So what if everything is finally ready? At least that way Misha won’t find out that other than a merman thinking they were mated for life he really doesn’t have all that much experience in the whole dating of men department. He should have gotten out more, really, but he’s so messed up about the whole thing he actually thought he would just never try to date someone again. 

“Fish?” Misha asks as they settle down to eat. 

Richard freezes. “Do you not like fish?” Holy crap. 

“I’m a vegetarian,” Misha says as he pokes his fish with a fork. “I can eat around it.” 

It’s like the world bottoms out from underneath him. How did he ever make such a stupid mistake? Richard starts to replay every meal they’ve shared with each other and he swears Misha has eaten meat in front of him before. Maybe he’s crazy… 

“Are you serious?” 

“No,” Misha says with a huge grin. “I’m joking, fish is fine, I just wanted to watch you squirm. It’s cute in a really uncomfortable sort of way.” 

“I hate you,” Richard glowers before yanking his napkin, so carefully folded on the table and slapping it into his lap. He digs into his meal without looking back up at his date on the other side of the small kitchenette table. If he just keeps chewing maybe he can forget Misha is sitting over there chuckling at him. He’s not used to be so transparent, Richard has walls on top of walls on top of walls, hell, it’s one of the reasons his marriage ended. No one ever gets in far enough to hurt him, not ever again. But somehow, Misha just walks right through them like they don’t exist. 

“No you don’t,” Misha murmurs as he goes to dig into his food like he’s starving. “You don’t love me, not yet, but you sure as hell don’t hate me. You look at me like a starving man watching a steak.” 

“Oh shut up!” Richard snaps. He can feel his face flushing pink as heat creeps up cheeks. Humiliated. 

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Misha grins as he takes a sip of his wine. Richard looks up just in time to see on odd smile playing around the other man’s mouth while Misha looks pointedly at the wall behind Richard’s head and offers, “I’m pretty…hungry myself.” 

The blood in Richard’s face goes shooting toward his dick at lightening speed and he has to grip the table in both hands and take a deep breath for fear of passing out. Misha Collins is like a rollercoaster. Richard never sees the turns or drops coming, but he’s pretty sure he’s having the time of his life. 

He’s starting to think he might not be the only one. The way Misha still won’t meet his eyes tells Richard Misha has more secrets of his own, desires and wants that maybe Richard can help him fulfill. That would be something new, to be part of building something solid and wonderful another person instead of just standing in the middle waiting for it all to fall down. “So tell me about your favorite food,” Richard blurts, trying to drive the conversation away from the deep and personal and into territory more suited for a first date. 

After all, that’s what they’re on, right? A first date. 

Hopefully, it will be the first of many. It’s nice, to not be just rushing for a way to figure out how to get into Misha’s pants. There’s attraction, for certain. But it’s not all Richard wants and he’s willing to wait to see if he can have something real. 

Though, when the wine is gone and the sun has lowered well into the evening, turning the sky dark with just the stars and the bright light of the moon, Richard struggles to remember why taking it slow is a good thing as Misha reaches out to kiss him goodnight. He feels like he’s melting, dissolving into heat and wanting until he swears there’s just a puddle of him left around Misha’s feet. 

He swears he pours himself into bed. 

*****

“Do you like the ocean?” Misha asks as they settle in on the couch one night. Richard leaning against the back facing the television even though it isn’t on, while Misha is settled against the side with his socked feet slung across Richard’s lap. 

“I’m…not exactly a water person,” Richard answers, clenching the magazine he’s reading between his suddenly numb fingers as his mind produces images, once thought long forgotten of Mish’s wide eyes and too pale skin glistening in the light. 

“Bad experience?” Misha questions. 

There’s something in his tone making Richard turn to meet his gaze. He almost laughs, Misha looks so concerned, as though he’s scared Richard might start screaming any second now. Hell, maybe he thinks Richard might. After all, they’ve only been dating for a few weeks, just enough for each of them to start to ease into being together, to start taking their shoes off and stop wearing their best non-work clothes when they decide to spend time together. 

“Something like that,” Richard answers hesitantly. “I almost drowned when I was a kid. I mean, it wasn’t too serious, I wasn’t in the water long enough to do any damage. I…um…held my breath. My mom lost her mind though. Look, it’s a stupid and frankly really boring story. So just don’t even worry about it. I’m sorry I even started talking about it. But, anyway, I never did learn how to swim, so yeah, not such a fan of the water.” 

There’s a pause, Misha’s body doesn’t tense but he’s not moving either. Like he’s assessing something, waiting for Richard to crack. Richard stares at the painting on the wall near the corner of the room and wills for his heart to stop hammering in his chest, for his hands to stop shaking, for Misha to say something, _anything,_ the silence is deafening and just when he thinks he’s going to crack and start screaming about merpeople and long lost lovers Misha finally says, “So we’ll plan all our vacations for the mountains then, because neither of us are water people.” 

Air, blessed air rushes back into Richard’s lungs. “So…you don’t like water either?” 

“Not so much,” Misha huffs, he blinks slowly and crosses his arms. For a second, Richard thinks he must be lying. “Unlike your story, it’s kind of complicated. And I’d like to not have to rehash the whole thing. So let’s just agree that we’re not going to build a secluded cabin by a lake somewhere and we’ll be fine.” 

It’s on the tip of Richard’s tongue to mention that he already owns an isolated cabin next to a lake, but if he brings it up then Misha might want to go there sometime and then Richard would have to deal with facing Mish. It’s not something he thinks of capable of coping with so he bites his lip and feels horribly guilty. But he remains silent and thinks to himself that it’s only one secret, a secret that doesn’t even really belong to him. He has to protect his friend, it’s the least he can do. 

He owes Mish that much. 

Misha suddenly starts in on an animated story from a few years ago when he had just started to work his company. Something about travelling to New Orleans during Mardi Grad. Richard really isn’t paying much attention at the beginning, his thoughts spinning in a circle out of control. He snaps back to reality when Misha’s foot nudges just a little too close to his balls, making him jump and he reaches out on instinct to cup along Misha’s calf, his fingers slipping under the loose track pants Misha’s wearing. 

The skin on Misha’s leg doesn’t feel right. It’s bumpy, ragged. Richard curves his hand upwards as Misha keeps talking, exploring and mapping the strange hairless ridge that seems to cover only the outside of Misha’s leg. “What’s wrong with you?” Richard suddenly blurts. Misha stops talking, blinking over at Richard with wide eyes. 

“I know it was a little weird, but I swear nothing I ate could possibly have that poisonous. Seriously, the alcohol poisoning was way worse. I puked all over everyone.” 

Okay….

“That’s not what I mean,” Richard corrects. “I mean, what is wrong with your leg?” 

“Oh,” Misha shrugs. “It’s nothing, road rash I guess they call it. I got dragged on gravel and it ate my leg up. No big deal.” 

“It feels horrible,” Richard whispers, his eyes focused on the hem on the edge of Misha’s pants leg as it keeps riding up farther and farther. He gets just a glimpse of strangely marked skin on the outside of Misha’s leg before Misha is gently pulling his leg away and tugging his pants leg back down. 

“It’s not so bad,” Misha grins. “Happened a long time ago, It’s ugly, but nothing that really gives me problems. Not like the webbed toes, anyway.” 

“Webbed toes?” Richard sputters and Misha wiggles his socked feet now tucked under Richard’s thigh. 

“Yep,” Misha laughs as Richard’s eyes widen comically. “Had them my whole life. Don’t tell anyone though; it has to be our little secret. People will think I’m a freak.” 

:You _are_ a freak!” Richard laughs before grabbing Misha’s left ankle to hold it still after yanking out from under him and trying to tug off Misha’s sock. Misha puts up a fight, giggling and then shouting in mock outrage as they roll off the couch onto the floor. Richard refuses to let him go though; finally managing to fight Misha’s freakishly long arms away from him long enough to yank off the sock. Only to have Misha roll him over and throw all his body weight on top of him and tickle him until Richard almost pees himself. They end up in a panting mass of askew limbs piled together on the ground. Richard thinks he probably lost, Misha is stupidly strong, and won’t cry uncle for anything. But even though Richard’s come out on the bottom of this particular scuffle he still holds his bare foot up in the air and splays his toes out in an arc. 

Richard gasps before bursting into laughter. There, for him to see clear as day, Misha’s toes are all webbed, the thin membrane stretched out between each toe. It’s fascinating, Richard looks at it for a long time before reaching out to touch. Misha jerks his foot away warning, “Too sensitive.” 

He’s happy, for the first time in a long time everything in his life is going just the way he wants it to go. 

So of course, everything starts going to Hell the very next day.

*****

“We have a problem,” Rob says as he slams his way into Richard’s office Monday morning. 

“We have lots of problems,” Richard agrees. It’s nothing new, there’s always something going wrong in the business world and frankly, with the economy the way it is right now they’re all just lucky they still have jobs. Richard hasn’t even had to do layoffs so he counts himself as extra lucky these days. 

“No, Richard,” Rob argues, the first clue Richard gets that this is a the personal kind of bad is when Rob stops to lock the door to his office behind him before crossing the distance to his desk only to unplug the phone. “I mean seriously bad. This guy Misha Collins? He doesn’t exist.” 

It feels like his heart stops. Richard can’t breathe. Tears come to his eyes before he even finds his voice to ask how Rob knows, because Rob is one of those guys that finds out things. It’s why Richard hired him. He can find out anything about anyone no matter how hard they try to hide it. The fact that it’s taken him this long to come to Richard means he’s been digging hard from right out the gate on Misha and come up empty handed. 

“Are you sure?” He manages to choke out.

“Would I be here if I wasn’t?” Rob snaps back and Richard flushes because that was just a stupid question. “Look Richard, I don’t know how to tell you this, but the guy is fraud. I know you’re close, I know there’s some serious stuff going on between you two. That’s why I kept looking. I had to be sure before I came up here and ripped you apart. I put it all on the disk. Check it out for yourself. But I swear to God, he didn’t exist on the planet before four years ago. No records, no education, all of his degrees are falsified. His social security number is off some guy who died over ten years ago. He’s not real. Whoever he is, he’s bad news and you need to get the hell away from him before something horrible happens.” 

Richard doesn’t remember much of the following conversation he knows Rob gives him more information but he doesn’t process any of it. Instead, he puts Rob out of his office after thanking him for everything in a voice Richard knows is dead and flat. He relocks the door behind himself and starts digging his way through the thumb drive Rob has left for him. What he finds is shocking, Rob is right, all of Misha’s documentation is forged, they’re good, but not perfect, if someone wasn’t looking too hard they would never had noticed. His personal documentation is all full of inconsistencies, his birth certificate is particularly shocking, as it indicated he was born in the same small town Richard’s Grandfather lived and died in. 

But it’s the social security number that stops Richard in his tracks. He has to go home to check it, has to be sure. He knows that number, has seen it on the documentation to the cabin, but that can’t possibly be right. He dashes out of his office, blowing off three important merger meetings and knocking down an intern in the hallway on his way to the elevator. Misha shouts his name as Richard runs through the lobby, but he’s the last person Richard wants to talk to right now. There’s too much burning in his head and he’s just one piece away from putting the puzzle together. 

The drive home is physically painful. He’s on the verge of a panic attack the whole way and as he manages to finally get the key to his front door open he falls into his condo and has to drag himself back up to make it to the spare bedroom he uses as an office. There, buried in his file cabinet is the documentation from his Grandfather’s death. Richard had kept it all just in case he needed it. On the last page, Richard finds it. His Grandfather’s social security number…the same one Misha is using today. 

Richard feels the tears well up in his eyes before they start pouring down his cheeks he sobs dryly at first, shoving the papers away from himself with a snarl before collapsing on the ground and burying his face in his arms. There’s a part of his that always suspected, the spray tan, the same eyes. But it had all seemed too good to be true and now it wasn’t. Betrayal, white and hot burns through his chest. He has no idea why Mish would do this, why he would follow Richard out into the world. 

But he’s sure as hell going to find out. He spends the rest of the afternoon straitening up the mess he’s made and getting ready for a show down. He’s going to have his answers before the sun rises tomorrow if he has to beat them out of Misha, or whoever the shit he actually is. 

*****

Richard sits in the dark until he hears the door open. He doesn’t remember giving Misha a key, but on top of everything else he’s found out today it seems small in comparison. Everything seems small, unimportant. There’s just Richard, his anger, and this man coming through the door. 

There’s nothing else left. 

“Rich?” Misha calls out somewhere between a yell and a whisper. Almost like he’s afraid of the answer he’ll get. It makes part of Richard’s mouth twist up in some kind of hideous mockery of a grin. It would be nice if Mish were as off center as he feels right now. 

The lights start to click on, one after another as Misha moves through the house searching for him. Richard doesn’t move from where he’s crouched in the corner of his almost empty walk in closet. There’s not a lot of sanity left in him today to explain why he decided to sit here to wait, but it’s dark and close to the bathroom in case he needs to get to the tub. He hears it when Misha’s feet hit the now soaking carpet, the squish of his treads along it becoming slower, less sure of themselves as they cross the room toward the master bathroom. The tub has long since gotten full of water to the point over flowing, running across the tile floor until it hit the carpet and soaking along it’s length. Richard’s been waiting for hours, he wanted to ready in case. 

In case of what, Richard’s honestly not sure. He’s been drinking, half a bottle of scotch gone in less than four hours and he’s a little fuzzy on what exactly his plan started out as. He only knows it’s shrunk down to a tub full of water, a darkened condo, and him in the closet clutching his grandfather’s old hunting rifle. Richard’s never shot it before. Honestly, he’s not even sure it’s loaded, but Misha or Mish, or whoever the fuck he is doesn’t know that.

Richard just wants answers. 

“Richard?” Misha questions again as he sloshes past the closet door to shut off the tap. “Jesus, what happened here?” 

It’s not until the light for the closet clicks on that Richard even considers answering. Misha’s shocked face highlight by the harsh electric light of the bare bulb as Richard looks up at him bleary eyed and dangerous. “Who. Are. You?” Richard growls out as he stands, hand gripping the rifle at his side. 

Misha jerks backwards hard. His foot slipping on the wet carpet in his designer business shoes so he stumbles, tips backward as he falls and bashes his head hard enough into the sheetrock behind him that his head cracks it leaving a dent. “No.” Misha whimpers as he scoots backward, struggling to find footing, back into the bathroom to finally press himself against the sink and cling on like his life depends on it. “Richard…please.” 

“Who. Are. You?” Richard demands as he follows him into the room to face off against him from near the toilet. It’s funny, in some distant area of his brain it never occurred to him until just not exactly how large this bathroom really was. Ridiculous. 

“You know who I am.” Misha whispers. Richard watches as tears well up in the other man’s eyes and so help him, if he had any tears of his own left he would have started crying too. He doesn’t want this to be happening right now. He wants to be curled up together on the couch secure in the notion that his suspicions were stupid and that this relationships was something he could keep. But that’s not how this is playing out. 

“Get in the tub,” Richard orders waving the rifle in the tubs general direction. Misha looks at it wide eyed turning back to Richard shakily like he doesn’t understand. “ _Get in the God Damned tub!_ ” Richard shouts. 

Misha starts moving then, it’s slow, hesitant almost like he doesn’t really believe this is happening. “This isn’t going to work,” Misha warns even as he grabs onto the towel bar and crawls over the edge so that he’s standing in the middle of the tub, water soaking his expensive dry-clean-only suit and ruining it just like they’ve both managed to ruin any chance they ever had at being happy. “I don’t know what you’re expecting, but I can’t just…shift.” 

“Change back.” Richard orders. He heard what the man said but at this point he doesn’t have any reason to believe him at all. “Now.” 

“I just told you I can’t!” Misha sobs. He wraps his arms around himself as his body starts to shiver all over. Richard flinches a little, the water has to be cold, might be hurting him. But it’s too late for him to back down now. “I can’t turn back. This is what I am now. It’s too late for that. I’m sorry. You’re right, you’re not crazy. If that’s what you think. I’m him, that boy from the lake. I swear I am. But this isn’t a movie, Richard. I can’t just grow a tail and gills right now. Please stop this.” 

“Why?” Richard barks, hammering the butt of the rifle against the sink making Misha throw his hands up and make a noise that sounds desperate and afraid. “Oh shut up,” Richard sighs as he tosses the rifle out of the room into the soaking wet hallway. “I don’t even know how to fire the damned thing. I’m not going to shoot you.” 

He turns, slamming down the toilet lid seat and slumping over on it to bury his face in his hands. For long moments there’s just the sound of them both breathing shakily, desperately, and then Misha says, “I can’t _be_ without you. I’m not…human enough for that. What I feel for you, it changes what I am and without you near me even only part of the time I hurt. I hurt so much, Richard. I thought I was dying. I just wanted to find you again. So I made myself this person and learned what I needed to be human. I thought…I thought even if you didn’t want me then, didn’t love who I really am, I could make you love me like this. It wouldn’t be real, wouldn’t be what I really wanted, but it might be enough to make me stop hurting inside. To make us both stop hurting. I see it in you too even if you think it’s not there. You need me too.”

“I don’t need anybody,” Richard answers raising tired eyes to meet the gaze of the only person in his life he ever really cared about. “Why did you want to hurt me so much? I know…I know I should have done better by you. But I was stupid, scared, and young. I never thought you would do all this just to get back at me…”

“I _love_ you!” Misha shouts. “Aren’t you listening to me? I did all this so we could be together, so I could be what you wanted. I didn’t want to hurt you. Please, Richard. Help me. We can make us work. We have to. I can’t…I won’t make it long without you again.” 

“Get out,” Richard answers. The finality of it ringing in the air around them both. He’s tired, too tired to be angry anymore, too heartsick to yell. They can’t continue this way. Richard’s not made to live like this. “Everything about you is a lie.”

Mish’s breath leaves his lungs as though it was punched out. Richard turns his back and presses his face against the cold tile on the wall while he listens to the water splashing and Mish’s smothered sobs as he slinks from the room, from the condo, from Richard’s life. Richard doesn’t move for a long time after he hears the distant click of the shutting front door. Not until the alcohol in his stomach makes him sick, and he has to slide off the toilet onto the damp tile floor so he’ll have somewhere to vomit. 

*****  
Misha Collins ceases to exist as though he never was. The deal goes through for Richard’s company as promised the following week with a huge pay out in their favor to cover business dealings done by someone who was never qualified in the first place. It saves Richard’s career. He just wishes he could bring himself to give a shit. 

He lets Rob handle all of it. Instead he chooses to spend the week sucking the water out of his carpet with an industrial shop vac and profusely apologizing to the downstairs neighbors of his condo for the water damage to their ceiling from his night of insanity. If he closes his eyes and tries really hard it’s almost as if it never happened in the first place. Or it would be, if not for the fact that Richard’s heart feels like it gets a little bit smaller and more dried up every second of everyday. 

He’s considering the benefits of just cutting off the water soaked bottom of the sheetrock when it occurs to him that maybe Mish had been serious about not being able to make it without him. Maybe this is more than just heartbreak, maybe it doesn’t just feel like a part of him is dying inside. Maybe a part of him, Mish’s part of him, is actually dying. 

Suddenly, Richard’s very, very afraid. 

“What would you do,” he asks Rob when he calls to check up on him. “If everything you wanted was just out of your reach and the only thing you had to do to get it was give up everything you already had?” 

“It depends,” Rob answers without even hesitating. “Does what you have make you happy?” 

“No.”

It doesn’t, not at all, has never even come close to summers spent lounging on the dock in the sun while his friend floated peacefully at his side. 

“Richard…” Rob says softly. “Do you love him?” 

“More than every breath I have ever taken in my life,” Richard responds wiping at tears he thought for certain had to be dried up. 

“Then maybe it doesn’t matter who he is,” Rob says like he’s spent some time thinking about it before this phone call. “Maybe it only matters who he is to you.” 

“I have to go.” Richard announces suddenly, because he does, he has to go _now._ They’ve already lost so much time. 

“I know.”

“I may not come back,” he warns as he dashes around his condo trying to find his keys, his wallet. He doesn’t need anything else. 

“I know how to find you,” Rob chuckles. “Go be happy you obnoxious little shit.” 

Richard’s smiling when he drops his cell phone on the still damp carpet and races toward his car. It’s the first bit of joy he’s felt in a week, and he holds it as tightly as he can while he waits in the airport to board the plane taking him home. 

He never lets himself consider the possibility that Mish might not be there. 

*****

The flight feels like it takes forever, waiting in line for the rental car even longer. Never mind, after all that he still has a two hour drive from the airport to the cabin with no way to call ahead and tell Mish he’s coming. Not that Mish would answer the phone, or even then want to talk to him. It’s then, as he finally hits town, that the first wave of insecurity starts to roll over Richard’s shoulders. 

What if mish isn’t there?

Worse, what if he’s there and just refuses to see Richard?

Or, what if he sees them and then hates him for the endless cycle of bullshit Richard has created leading up to this moment?

He wants to say it’s not possible, wants to swear that Mish will still love him no matter what because the only other option is that Richard has ruined any chance of real happiness he’s ever had by being a total jackass. He’s not sure he can live with himself if that’s the case. 

By the time he finishes driving around the lake toward the cabin Richard’s hands are shaking. His chest hurts as he parks the rental and gets out. There are no other cars here, no tire tracks or anything that might even be considered signs of life. The windows are shut down tight, not even a ripple in the water. Richard hesitates, but there’s just no other way this could go for them. Mish has to be here, because if he’s not then Richard’s whole life is going to fall apart. 

Richard circles the house, noticing the door has been open and shut recently, but now it’s locked tight and in his rush to get here he forgot he doesn’t carry the key to the cabin on his ring anymore. He’s got no way of getting in other than busting out a window and he’s not that desperate…not yet. His path trails around the edge of the lake; Richard’s still not sure what exactly he’s looking for. Nothing here looks any different than it did all those years ago, but then, nothing here ever changes almost like the cabin, the lake, and everything is stuck in time. He wishes that were true, wishes that maybe he and Mish could have been stuck at seventeen when their whole world was just the lake and each other and they hadn’t learned how to hurt one another yet. 

He rounds the curve leading toward the dock, walking down its wooden planks toward the end with no other goal than sitting there and trailing his feet in the water until the sun sets or someone, hopefully Mish, comes to collect him. The boards creak as Richard crosses them, bending under his weight in a way he doesn’t remember from childhood hours spent lounging here. At the end of the dock the canoe has long since disappeared; floated off to sink in the other side of the lake maybe, Richard doesn’t know. He’s just staring down into the murky depths trying to formulate his next move when the boards beneath him shift, moving and separating as though they’re coming apart at the seems. Richard has just enough of a chance to panic, to turn and grab onto the board behind him as he falls into the icy cold water. But even that board gives way under his weight, breaking off in his desperate hands as he flails. 

He never did learn how to swim. 

Richard hurls himself back toward the shore in desperation, but the dock is long and the water deep. His feet won’t touch the bottom and with the weight of his jeans and the jacket he dragged out town with him he’s losing the battle to stay afloat too quickly to save himself. He screams as he feels himself sinking, dragged under without the aid of a merman to breathe air into his lungs this time. Richard’s going to die here. His whole life eaten up by this lake and the worst part is that he’ll never get to tell mish how wrong he was, how sorry he is, how much he wants a life for the two of them together. 

It’s too late. 

Richard stops struggling after a few long minutes. His chest is screaming, he’s out of air and the world around him starts to turn grey around the edges of his vision. He slips into unconsciousness just as something slams into the side of his body hard enough to make him cough out the rest of his air. Everything goes black and Richard wonders distantly what it was. 

He wakes up on the bank, soaked and freezing in the ever cooling night air with Mish crouched on top of him, just as wet and furiously shrieking, “ _Richard! You gigantic fucking asshole! Wake the hell up!_ ”

Richard blinks, coughing up what feels like the entire lake in horrible spasms that make him double over in on himself quivering and fighting for breath. “Oh thank fuck!” Mish barks out hoarsely, flopping over onto his back beside where Richard is now curled and whimpering between sucking in huge lung fulls of air and gagging them back out again. 

“The dock’s rotten,” Mish says after a few moments. “It’s been that way for years. I thought about putting up a sign, but no one ever comes out this far so it never seemed important.” 

“I’m sorry,” Richard blurts his voice sounding like he’s been strangled. There’s so much he needs to get out of his head, out of his heart. He still feels like he’s drowning. 

“Not now,” Mish orders before struggling to his feet and reaching down to drag Richard back up onto his as well aiming them toward the cabin and forcing Richard to stumble along with him when everything in Richard’s body is telling him to sit down, curl up, and die. 

“Mish…” The protest is a weak one. He’s so tired. 

“We can talk about it later,” Mish says harshly. “Whatever it is you have to say. You need to get warm or bad things are going to happen and in this form there’s not much I can do to help with that. Now can you walk faster than this or do I need to carry you?”

Richard must hesitate a second too long because Mish is rolling his eyes and snatching him up like he weighs nothing, hauling him toward the house at a pace that Richard knows humans can’t walk at carrying so much extra weight in their arms. He doesn’t even put Richard down to yank the door open, letting it slam shut behind them while he carries Richard straight into the bathroom off the living room and drops him in the tub. Richard gasps as the water comes on cold Mish mutter curses and apologies under his breath before turning the spray away and bending to yank off Richard’s tennis shoes. “Can you help me take your clothes off? You’re soaked and freezing and wet clothes aren’t going to help you get warm.” 

Richard’s not certain he’s actually helping at all, but the intent is there at least. Mish finally manages to yank him free of his jeans and boxers just as he gets his shirt worked up his chest far enough to Mish to rip off over his head. He trembles all over, can’t stop shaking and when Mish finally turns the shower head back around so that it hits him the hot water feels like little needles stabbing into his skin over and over. He makes a noise that has to be a whimper even though he really wants to deny it right now. But then Mish is standing, tearing at his own clothing and stepping in between Richard and the water, hauling him back onto his feet again and pressing up against him so they are chest to chest. 

“Shhh…” Mish whispers in his ear and Richard relaxes into his hold, focusing on breathing and the way the water rolls over Mish’s shoulder and down onto his head taking away the sting. There’s the possibility he loses some time because the next thing Richard knows his back is being heated by the warm water spray and Mish is leaning against the tiled shower wall rubbing his arms and shoulders and holding him up. Richard hums softly, shifting and reaching hand that he can finally feel again up to slide across the bare side of mish’s body. The other man doesn’t say anything until Richard’s fingers slip across an oddly textured area of skin. He looks down, blinking water out of his eyes and sees…gills? 

“They aren’t totally gone,” Mish offers. “Maybe they never will be. Sealed up though, so I can’t breathe under water anymore. I miss it. It would have been helpful today when I was looking for you.” 

“Oh,” is all Richard manages, but his hand keeps rubbing over the area again and again like he’s hoping to memorize it before Misha yanks it all away again. 

The water turns off once it starts to cool and he’s able to halfway help Mish dry him off before they both end up tumbling toward the bed in the room Richard has always claimed as his own. He blinks in surprise when he realizes it’s not just him that’s claimed that room. Mish must have been spending his time in here as well. The mishmash of personal items spreading over all the surfaces makes him grin even at it hurts his heart. “Rest,” Mish says firmly as he curls in bed around Richard’s body, tucking him in close and holding against the unnatural warmth of Mish’s frame. 

“Be here,” Richard manages to murmur. “In the morning, please be here.”

There’s a pause. He can feel his panic rising, ready to fight off sleep and cling to the other man if he has to in order to stop from losing him again. “Yes,” Mish finally says and it’s all the permission Richard’s body needs before falling into sleep. 

******

_Six Months Later_

“You’re a gigantic idiot, you know that right?” Mish chuckles as he leans over the edge of the boat to look at Richard’s newest attempt at swimming in the lake. 

“Freak,” Richard shoots back before raising his arms above his head and sinking under the water. It’s just a minute with his head sunk in and the panic starts to crawl up his back. It’s getting better, Mish is probably the best teacher Richard could ask for. Besides, as soon as he puts his arms back down he floats back up to the surface. The little flotation devices he still insists on wearing make certain of that. 

Yeah, he looks dumb, but there’s only Mish there to see it, and after all this time together they’ve both seen each other acting pretty stupid. 

“Ready to go in?” Mish asks when Richard orients himself back toward facing him in the canoe. “You’re getting all pruny.” 

“You say that like it’s a problem,” Richard teases. 

“Water’s cold,” Mish shrugs. “I want to give you a blow job and I know you’re going to blame it all on shrinkage if you stay in there any longer.” 

He squeals when Richard splashes him with water in retaliation. They both laugh as Mish leans over the edge of the canoe to brace himself and haul Richard back in. It’s a delicate balance, they’ve tipped over a bunch of times, sometimes on purpose. But Richards starting to view the canoe as a metaphor for their relationship; sometimes they push and pull to hard and turn everything upside down, but they always make it right again. 

Mish is probably accurate when he says Richard is turning into a sentimental old fool. Richard shrugs it off. If he is, then so be it, they both like him better this way. 

“I need to check in with Rob,” Richard reminds him as they work their way back to the newly rebuilt dock and tie off the canoe before heading to the house for him to clean up. “He’s been bugging the shit out of me for an answer about the Nelson project and if I don’t give him one today he says he’s going to make me come in for a meeting instead of doing it over the video chat.”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Mish argues even as he grins. “He hates it when you come into town. He has to stop using your office.” 

“True,” Richard chuckles as he drags off his wet shoes and drops them by the front door before heading inside and going right for the bathroom. “But since when has that stopped him?” 

He hears Mish make a grunting noise of acknowledgement. Richard smirks as he steps into the shower and turns on the water. Rob and Mish have had a lot to work out between the two over them. Rob having a hard time getting over being convinced Mish might be an ax murder; Mish blaming Rob for blowing his carefully crafted cover. It had been rough at the beginning and frankly required Richard to be a lot more honest with Rob than he was really comfortable being. But once the man had understood what was really going on he had stopped being so adversarial. He still doesn’t know Mish isn’t actually human, but he knows enough to know that the fake identity he sometimes uses in necessary to keep him safe and because of that helped to make Misha Collins a better cover in case of emergency. 

Richard gets out of the bathroom in enough time to overhear Mish saying, “I think I’m going to bring him in for a visit in a month or two, Rob. He loves it here and we’re happy but that doesn’t mean the rest of the world gets to disappear just because we want it to.” 

Richard smiles a little sadly. True words, but he never stops wishing for this simple life with Mish out here at the cabin to be the only life he has to lead. 

“Stop talking about me!” He orders playfully as Mish hands him the laptop with a quick kiss pressed to his cheek before heading into the bathroom for a shower of his own as Richard goes over the next business venture their company is about to undertake. He and Rob spend the next twenty minutes bickering over changes in the contracts and who will handle what. Richard misses when the shower turns off and the bathroom door reopens. He’s not paying attention when Mish walks past him into the living room. Doesn’t glance up at all until Mish’s robe hits the floor at his feet with a soft thump of material. 

When he does look up Richard’s stunned. 

Mish’s body is what other people might consider odd, but it never fails to get a reaction out of Richard. Mish is all long, lean muscles under skin that still retains some of its thin membrane like qualities from his time as a water dweller. Though Mish has developed a tan of his own now due to his days spent out in the sun the parts of him that are still slightly scaled have taken on a golden hew, shining out against the light from the living room and making him sparkle a little in the center of the room. 

His gills remain against the lower sides of his body, thin flaps of skin layer over each other in two palm sized patches just above his hips. Richard’s explored those gills expertly, knows the openings behind them that once let him process water for oxygen have long since sealed over. But still, trailing his fingers, or better yet, his tongue over the strips of flesh that remain can make Mish come with almost no other stimulation. He’s so sensitive. 

The trail of damaged and torn up scarring that trails up his outer leg and side stands out sharply against the beauty of the rest of his form. Mish hates it, Richard remembers nights spent trying to peal back the covers in the dim light of their shared bedroom to explore it with his eyes and having Mish squirm and protest against his curiosity. But Richard loves this part of his body more than any other, the scarring speaking of loyalty, of the enormous ability that his friend has to love others. Those scars are like a badge of honor to Richard, he spends every spare second he has trying to convince Mish to feel the same. It’s a work in progress, they both are. 

He knows he’s in trouble when his wandering eyes make it back to Mish’s face. Blue eyes laughing silently at the way Richard’s mouth is hanging open as Mish smirks, sliding down to the floor to crawl, like giant panther, over to where Richard is sitting on the couch and mouth at his hard on through his sweat pants. 

“Richard!” Rob snaps over the video conference still going on on the laptop. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah!” Richard blurts as Mish tugs down his pants and reaches inside to tug his dick free, leaning down to lick at it over and over with his tongue. Richard’s not sure who he’s talking to right now, bur Rob goes back to listing out all the concerns they still need to cover like Richard isn’t getting the blow job of his life right now.

He holds the laptop up higher, not wanting Rob to see anything. Then Mish deep throats him, right past the gag reflex he doesn’t actually have and Richard gasps, “I have to go!”

“What?” Rob snaps. Richard looks at him frantically. Rob’s eyes narrow. “What is he doing?”

Richard opens his mouth to say something, he doesn’t know what. But then Mish chuckles with Richard’s dick still lodged in his throat and his eyes start to roll up. 

“I hate you both!” Rob shouts. “Call me when you grow up!” The video conference abruptly ends and Richard drops the laptop onto the couch before reaching down to grab handfuls of Mish’s hair and drag him up into a wet, passionate kiss. 

One kiss turns into ten, turns into Mish straddling Richard’s lap as their dicks bump and rub against each other. 

“He’s going to kill you for that,” Richard chuckles as he mouths at a patch of scales near Mish’s shoulder. 

“I’ll send him chocolate and wine,” Mish breathes into Richard’s ear before tugging on his earlobe with his teeth. “He’ll get over it.”

“I love you,” Richard says as he tugs Mish back to look into his eyes. “Always loved you.” 

“I love you, too,” Mish smiles, no boundaries, no secrets now. 

Just the two of them together, finally. 

“Now take me to bed and I’ll show you the new move I learned in yoga.”

And how is Richard supposed to argue with that?


End file.
